Crushed Flowers 

One of my earlier poems 

And these are my flaws

My vices.

Impatience, a tongue

sharp as a guillotine.

Caffeine. Chocolate.

Sarcasm on every occasion.

And unquenchable desire

to be loved.

A heart that is an

exhibitionist who

weeps upon

my sleeve

A fear of monochrome

colors, thunder,

the undone,

petty gossip

and letting go.

A hunger to be kissed

often and with fervor.

An awkward shyness

around new people.

A fascination with

the lure of a snowbound

life.

Not being Christian

enough to turn the

other cheek or Zen

enough to just be still.

The knowledge that my

life is unimportant

in a world with a noose

around its neck but

writing about it

anyway.

I often prefer the company

of books and my cat to

other human beings.

I live nside a cluttered

mind in a pristine house.

And not listening closely

to my Granny and her

treasury of wise words

Most which I have

forgotten, but

I do recall her saying

you must learn

to take what will

be with grace,

that our flaws

bind us

to humanity,

and to never forget

even crushed

flowers are beautiful.

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62 thoughts on “Crushed Flowers 

  1. I love this, Tosha! One of things I often admire about your writing is the way you are drawn to contrast and seem to thrive in that tension. Exhibit A–“A cluttered mind in a pristine house”. Thanks for sharing one from the archives 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is a beautiful poem… “I live inside a cluttered mind in a pristine house…” – I think that’s my most favorite line… I love the post of words and the use of stark contrast of emotions in that one…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Aaaaaaabsoluely LOVE this. In fact, wish more people wrote so candidly/incisively about themselves when such was the case. If only more profiles [if this were posted on one, hypo-theoretically] rung with so much truth, finesse, and depth.

    By no means am implying you’re being narcissistic, mind you. Just extrapolating from here into other possibilities and sprinkling those on the world that seems to be inauthentic at times IMO.

    ANYWAYS! Be well. And keep up the great work sharing your personal treasure trove of words. It’s really a treat!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow! Thad’s quite a compliment. I’m so flawed, I have no choice but to write about imperfections. I’m hopng in my next life to come back as a 5 foot nine model but in this one I’m just gonna have to settle for being here this short imperfect woman I am. Really appreciate you stopping by. It’s always a pleasure.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Absolutely love this piece, Tosha. You are not very far from my own vices and influences.
    Especially this:
    A hunger to be kissed
    often and with fervor.

    Ah, wouldn’t that be grand…and isn’t it a shame I used “would that be” in that sentence. *sigh* well done, Beautiful Friend.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love this poem Tosha. And the picture fits well too. It is interesting the speaker lists these flaws, as if she’s guilty. But she cannot be perfect and I love the grandmother’s words: “Be with grace . . . Our flaws bind us to humanity.” To be human is to be imperfect, to always be flawed. Just do the best you can with your flaws and your gifts, it’s all you can do. Great writing!

    Liked by 1 person

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